


Healing Touches

by morganaDW (morgana07)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Summaries, M/M, Possible Spoilers, Protective Dean Winchester, Schmoop, Tags May Change, Top Dean Winchester, mention of cutting, mention of past self harm, possible triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 03:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15877878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morganaDW
Summary: 1-shot. After finally being freed of 9 months of Michael’s control, Dean is struggling with his own inner demons when he’s reminded of what’s most important to him and what he’ll need to do in order to help his brother heal from his own nightmares and fears .





	Healing Touches

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: The usual for language, explicit content since this is Wincest afterall. I’ll warn for possible spoilers just in case. I’m also tossing in a warning that this doesn’t always show Castiel in a good light.
> 
> Pairings: Dean/Sam
> 
> Spoilers: Maybe a few depending on if you’ve seen the end of season 13.
> 
> Beta’d By: cyncitymojo
> 
> Author Note: It’s been a while and I apologize for that but life hasn’t been easy and my focus is off. A friend and beta, cyncitymojo, mentioned a couple months back a scene involving Dean shaving Sam and this is the result. I hope you guys enjoy it.
> 
> Also, there might be moments where Castiel is not shown in a good light so if that's an issue then avoid.

**Healing Touches**

Dean Winchester stared at his reflection in the mirror of his bedroom in the former Men of Letters bunker. Running his fingers back through his still damp hair after taking his fifth shower since waking up fully after being freed from the control of the alternate world Michael, the hunter, wondered how long it would take before he honestly could say he felt like himself now that he wasn’t trapped in his own head.

It had been nine months of pure hell as Dean had struggled to find some way to regain control of his body after Michael had broken the deal they’d had when in his near desperation to save his younger brother from Lucifer that Dean had allowed the Archangel from that other world to use his body as a vessel.

In the back of his head now Dean supposed he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he had been that Michael had broken the deal since there had yet been a single time that angels hadn’t betrayed him and Sam in some way but this last time had come the closest that Dean was willing to admit to being scared that he’d screwed up in a way that not only would cost him his life but also Sam’s.

Clenching his fist, the hunter recalled the terror he’d felt upon realizing when Lucifer had vanished from the bunker that day with Jack that Sam had also been taken as his brother had been too close when he’d tried to defend the young Nephilim.

The choice to give Michael a vessel wasn’t one that Dean took lightly. Hell, he’d refused to allow this world’s jackass version to wear him so to consider saying yes to another version was something Dean knew he’d only do because he had no other option to protect Sam from Lucifer.

“Kill one of Sammy’s nightmares and give him a hundred more,” the hunter muttered, wincing as his voice still seemed loud to his own ears now that everything wasn’t muffled like it had been while he’d been a virtual prisoner inside his own head for nine months.

It had been nearly a week since he’d been freed. A week since Sam had somehow managed to pull off the mother of all Hail Mary’s or so Dean liked to call it now when he could think of that day without wanting either to puke or just grab onto Sam and not let go.

In the nine months since Michael had grabbed control, Dean had clear memories of everything that bastard had done including the three times that Sam had confronted him. Each of those times, especially the first one that had happened just three weeks after the day in the church, were times that Dean knew he’d wake up in cold sweats over and he also knew were probably the reasons why now Sam seemed to be avoiding him since they brought him back to the bunker.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Dean’s eyes dropped to the bronze amulet on his dresser even as he was picking it up to allow it to drop over his head so it rested on his chest like it had once.

The amulet had once been the symbol of his and Sam’s bond as brothers and so much more later on. Since learning that Sam had picked it up after that day when too much crap had been shoved between them and Dean had tossed it out he’d kept it in his pocket.

The day he’d said yes to Michael, Dean had left the amulet as well as a hastily scrawled letter to his brother and could only hope that Sam understood the reasons to both. The last fight had been in a backlot of the former Singer Salvage Yard and Sam struggled against Michael’s power as it threatened to crush his windpipe. By some of what Dean could recall hearing him say, he didn’t think Sam had understood and knew he needed to fix a few things soon.

Dean knew it had been the amulet more than any power or spell that had been used that day as well as the last words Sam had said before passing out only seconds before Michael’s power took his life that had been what had allowed Dean to finally fight back.

The hunter still wasn’t 100% certain what had happened or exactly who Sam had made whatever deal he had to get Naomi to help him with an ancient spell that Rowena used or how Dean knew the exact words to say to get the furiously fighting Archangel to release him but right at that moment he was too busy trying to regain his strength from wounds both internal and external since Michael didn’t leave his body without a fight or without causing both him and Sam injuries that were still healing despite spells and Angelic healing.

Dean also knew he needed to stop hiding and see what Sam was hiding since his little brother now was avoiding him and he wasn’t certain if that was due to the injuries Dean knew Michael had inflicted, the hurtful words the Archangel had tossed out by telling Sam things that Dean had never wanted his brother to know or things that the hunter feared had gone on in those nine months that Sam was keeping from him.

Dean was just debating on going to find Sam to see if he could get his brother to talk to him or better yet get the kid to sleep after he talked him into showering and shaving since even without the ever helpful babble by the other world’s Charlie, Dean knew his brother hadn’t been taking care of himself in the time he’d been gone when a sound from outside his bedroom door told him the decision had already been made.

“He’s not awake but his eyes are open.”

“He’s sleepwalking, ya damn feathered idjit! Don’t touch him!”

“He hasn’t slept in months, much less eaten, so on top of the injuries he sustained recently this could be a more serious thing and we should remove him back to his own room.”

“No. Sam’s finally crashed from not sleeping but he’s still upset. He goes to Dean when he’s upset, Castiel. I’ve seen that plenty of times since they found me and brought me here.”

“Jack, yes that is what normally happens but right now and until I can be certain that all of Michael’s influence was removed or that Sam still isn’t self-destructing I don’t feel he and Dean should be alone without…”

“Sam needs Dean! Dean needs Sam! Keeping them apart like this will just make Sam worse and Dean will eventually punch you or try to Holy Oil your ass as he likes to say whenever you make him angry. Besides, how can they have sex if you keep them apart?”

“Jack!”

“Well, that’s more information than I think their mother needs to know about. I told Mick those two were a bit closer than the records said but I agree with the boy. Leave Sam alone or else his brother will stab you, mate.”

“I’ll turn the first one of you that touches Sam into a wee hamster! Now leave the boy be this very bloody second and get up to reading all those dusty books to be sure whatever else has been set loose gets stopped before one of them gets it in their bloody heads to die for the other again!”

Jerking open the door, Dean shot each person in the hall a steely-eyed glare before turning his gaze back on the too wide, too glassy hazel eyes of his younger brother who, with one good look, Dean could tell was only half asleep but also half inside his own mind which was something Dean never cared for.

“Okay, first of all…Castiel, I will Holy Oil your ass if I ever find out that you touch my brother in any way to keep him from me. I will also be using that Holy Oil on you as soon as I get him calm if I find out you let him make any type of deal with Naomi for a spell that you already knew,” Dean stepped out into the hall to move his eyes to the young man standing between Sam and Castiel. “I don’t even want to know how you know about what you said since Sam and I haven’t even considered sex in the bunker since you’ve been here and our Mother had better not hear about it from you or else I’ll remember that I hate you again. I’m also letting Rowena turn whoever she wants into a hamster or other animal if you all don’t get the hell out of the hall and let me take care of what’s mine!

“In fact, why don’t all of you go into town? Go buy food or just get the hell out of here so I can be alone with my brother and…” Dean had to stop to consider the best choice of words when Jack Kline innocently chimed in.

“Have sex?” Jack’s face told of his innocence despite the things he’d seen and done in his very short life. It now also showed his confusion as Dean rubbed a hand over his face while Bobby Singer made another ‘idjit’ comment before dragging a very unhappy Castiel back towards the library. “That’s what Rowena says you and Sam do whenever you get a chance. She also says she and Mary are my grandmothers now.”

Dean was in the middle of swearing he was not going to go through the floor while also very glad his brother didn’t seem to be hearing any of this when he shot the bright-eyed red-haired Scottish witch a surprised look as she was quick to take Jack by the arm with the intention of following Dean’s suggestion about leaving the hallway.

“What?” she asked in the tone that Dean still wasn’t sure was good or not. “Every young sweet innocent lad needs two loving grandmotherly types to counter whatever the bloody hell you lot teach him. Fergus sacrificed himself for you and your brother so that meant he actually cared so while I find a way to get my son back I might as well adopt you two, scruffy hooligans,” she went on while shooting Ketch a glare after he’d rolled his eyes. “I might turn you and the angel into porcupines if either of you acts out again too! Come along, Jack. Let’s leave Sam to his brother and I’ll tell you all about the time I met your actual grandfather and…”

“Rowena! G-rate those stories for him!” Dean called out but then gave up that wish while giving the former prime assassin for the British Men of Letters a glare. “Get everyone, including our mother, the hell out of here for a few hours so I can try to get him to talk to me and…how long has it been since he slept or ate or…shaved?” he asked while taking his first real close look at his brother and not liking what he was seeing.

Ketch eyed the brothers for a moment before deciding how best to word his reply. He knew only too well that Dean would not only be feeling guilt for what he’d taken as his fault for some of Sam’s recent injuries, but he also knew the older of the two Winchesters would be less than thrilled if he learned of other things Sam had been doing in his quest to free him.

“Mary said he only slept a few hours a night but for the last month or so I haven’t seen him sleep without waking up shouting for you. He eats when your Mother or the witch make him and even then it’s bits and pieces. As for the shaving, I’ll leave that up to your guess, but going by the fact that the trench coat-wearing one asked one day if his razor had broken I’m guessing it’s been a while,” Ketch started to turn away but paused to glance back to see Dean staring at his quiet sibling. “Dean? He’s blamed himself and has pulled quite a few stunts that even stunned me so…”

“I got it. Now get lost. I’ve got this… I’ve got him,” Dean replied, dropping his voice on the last few words while turning to fully look at Sam and once again wondering how the hell things had managed to get this bad. “Sammy. You in there, little brother?” he asked quietly while reaching up to touch Sam’s too pale, too thin, bearded face.

Sam Winchester’s hazel eyes were glassy and blown wide from either exhaustion, shock, or the mild fever that Dean felt the moment he let his fingers trail down over Sam’s face. It was covered in more facial hair than Dean could ever recall seeing on either one of them except for maybe his time in Purgatory.

It was plain to the elder Winchester what must have happened that night even as he was debating on how to handle the situation and what problem to tackle first.

Dean knew this wasn’t the first time that Sam had pushed himself to, and nearly over, the edge in his need to either save Dean or help him from whatever the hell had happened in their lives, but it was the first time that Dean actually could see the consequences of what not eating, not sleeping, and taking a few too many foolish risks had done to his younger brother. The last time he’d seen Sam look this bad had been at the end of nearly finishing the trials and that was something the hunter did not want to relive or repeat. With a gentle nudge, he began to try to lead Sam towards the shower room.

Ignoring the sounds of others in the bunker for the moment, including the sound of a shotgun going off which told Dean that the alternate world’s Bobby had probably just taken a shot at a more stubborn than usual Castiel, he was quick to offer low words of reassurance when he felt Sam tense at the sounds.

“Just ignore anything else but my voice right now, Sammy,” he said while keeping an eye on Sam as he turned on the shower to start it getting warm and adjusting the spray. “Can you even hear me, little brother?” Dean asked, kneeling down in front of where he’d seated Sam to see that his brother’s hazel eyes still looked a little too glassy for his liking. “Sammy?”

“… … Real?”

The single word was whisper soft and only heard because Dean was close enough to catch it while removing the worn sweatshirt that he’d noticed Sam had taken to wearing again. He used to put it on when on edge and seeking comfort since it had gotten harder for them to be together with so many people in the bunker.

Understanding the meaning behind the whispered word made Dean swallow the lump that had formed because it told him another reason Sam must have stopped sleeping. The nightmares that had always plagued his younger brother since childhood must have returned with a vengeance. Considering some of the things that Dean could recall of his time with Michael in control he guessed a few of those were probably still chasing Sam even now that Dean was free of his influence and back where he needed to be, where he wanted to be; back with Sam.

“Yeah I’m real, Sammy,” he replied, careful to keep his voice low despite the way his temper spiked as the sweatshirt was pulled off and Dean got his first good look at Sam without a shirt in almost 10 months. “ _Sonuvabitch_!”

Dean recalled with brutal clarity, a lot of inner rage and guilt for the wounds Michael had inflicted on Sam those few times his brother had tried to confront the Archangel in hopes of getting through his control. As he let his fingertips trail over a deep scar on Sam’s chest, he vividly recalled the sound of bones breaking when Michael broke Sam’s arm. As he looked further, he wondered who the hell else had hurt his brother when something made Dean look down and felt his blood run cold.

“Damn it, Sam! You swore you’d never do this crap again!” Dean muttered, knowing that Sam was still too far into his own head to hear him or even understand why the sight of the healing, thin cuts on Sam’s arms and legs once he got the sleep pants off both bothered and terrified him.

A sharp memory surfaced of years earlier when Sam was 16, and then another time after his final bout with demon blood. Dean learned that the only way his brother could tell that he was both safe and not stuck in nightmares in his own head was to use the silver switchblade they each had to cut his own arms.

It had been a difficult thing for Dean to break his brother of doing it, but Sam had always sworn that he’d stopped. Now, with everything that had happened in the last nine months it looked to Dean that one of the ways his brother had started trying to either cope or maybe even stay awake was to cut. Even as he was stepping under the warm spray of water with Sam to begin the process of showering, it was something Dean vowed to make sure his brother never did again.

“As soon as you wake up fully from the week of sleep I’m guessing you’ll need in order to lose some of the shadows in those big eyes, and we get some food in you, we are going to have a long talk about things you do not do while trying to help me, little brother,” Dean said while reaching for the soap to begin to carefully lather a body that was once again way too thin for his liking while also trying to avoid any wounds or scars that he could now see littering Sam’s body that might be raw or infected. “Damn it, Sam. What the hell happened to you and how much of it was my fault?” he asked the silent shower room.

Dean hadn’t bothered to undress for this impromptu shower. His main concern was trying to get Sam showered and the mop of too long hair washed before he decided how to go about shaving his brother. When he felt the first shudder go through Sam, he’d been unsure whether he’d touched a raw wound since Dean could see a couple badly stitched wounds that he’d need to clean, or if something else seemed to be making his brother react.

“Can you hear me, Sam?” he asked, keeping his voice low like he would when it was just the two of them and Dean felt safe to let the walls he’d built up for so long drop. “If you can, I want you to listen when I say that this is me. You’re not dreaming. You’re not in your own head or having one of those way too damn real nightmares. I’m here in the bunker with you, little brother.” Dean went on, fingers slow as they began to carefully kneed tight muscles at Sam’s neck while letting the water rinse the soap off of Sam’s body. He began to lather thick, dark hair that he once again wondered how big a fit Sam would throw if he happened to cut it while he was this zoned out.

For the most part, while Dean worked on washing Sam’s body and hair, the younger Winchester was mostly silent. Except for moments when he’d murmur words too low for his brother to hear, the few things Sam mumbled or said were mainly Dean’s name or questioning as if still convinced Dean was trapped inside his own head or asking Dean to come back.

“I am back, Sam. I’m here with you.” Dean hated to hear the fear, the loss in Sam’s too quiet, almost monotone voice because it reminded him of how badly he’d failed his brother too many other times. He wished for once he could keep that promise to always keep Sam safe. Then Sam spoke again and Dean had to be quick to catch himself from where he’d been turning to grab a towel or else he knew he’d go to his knees from what felt like a punch to the gut as the words registered.

“I should have let Lucifer kill me and none of this, the last nine months, would have happened. Cas was right.”

Biting his tongue to keep in what he almost said, Dean vowed to find out just what the hell had been said to Sam recently to have put that damn belief in his head, but right then he knew he needed to bring Sam back to him, get him awake so he could convince him that he was safe and that everything would be fine. Dean had been hoping that the shower would be enough to wake Sam up, but then it was plain by the dull whispers, the still glassy eyes and the way Sam seemed to still think Dean was trapped inside his own head that too much exhaustion and pain had driven Sam into his own mind a lot deeper than Dean cared for right then.

This wasn’t the first time that Dean had seen something like this happen with Sam. There had been plenty of times over the last few years if Sam had been hurt badly enough or driven to the brink of exhaustion or even worse that Dean would have to find a way to wake his brother up, to make him understand that he was safe or that Dean was with him. Then he usually had to toss the no chick flick rule out for about a week.

Now that Dean had a better idea of Sam’s wounds, the injuries that had been inflicted either by Michael or by others as Sam had been fighting to find a way to free him from Michael’s control, the older brother had an idea of how much worse Sam might be hurting than anyone else had suspected. He also suspected how much worse emotionally Sam was hurt, and that told Dean there were a couple options open to him in how to handle this… and neither were ones he liked doing if they weren’t alone but as he felt Sam’s body shudder again when Dean’s hands touched his chest he decided it was a risk he’d have to take.

“Nothing that happened is your fault, Sam,” he said quietly, adjusting the shower head so that while the hot water still flowed it didn’t hit them directly when he gave a gentle nudge that pushed Sam up against the back wall.

“Was.”

The single word caused Dean’s eyes to watch Sam closer to see hazel eyes that were still glassy but had finally shifted to at least look at him even if Dean doubted Sam saw him.

“I made the choice to let Michael use me as a vessel. It was my decision, Sam,” Dean replied, adjusting the grip of his one hand so it stayed on Sam’s left shoulder while placing his right hand in the center of Sam’s chest and feeling something start to uncurl in his own chest at the barest sign of a reaction from his brother at the touch.

“For me.”

Rolling his eyes in a way that was similar to the way Sam would, Dean wasn’t sure whether to smirk or roll his eyes at the quiet responses while also seeing that Sam’s fingers had started to move restlessly where they were touching the shower wall.

Taking a careful step closer until their chests almost touched, Dean moved his own hand up to slowly begin to let it push long wet hair back out of Sam’s face and not missing the way Sam’s breath seemed to catch and his body gave another slightly harder shudder at the feel of calloused fingertips gliding over his scalp.

“Yeah. I made that choice, I said yes to him because I knew it was the only way to save you and Jack from Lucifer. I don’t regret that, Sammy.” Dean watched Sam’s face tense but when he went to move his eyes away as if not wanting to look at him Dean tightened his fingers just enough to use the sudden grip on Sam’s hair to tug his head back so their eyes locked. “I’ve never regretted one single damn choice I ever made for you, little brother,” he added, but allowed a bit more of his normal voice to filter through so if Sam was hearing other voices, other memories then Dean hoped the slightly gruffer, deeper tone might start to wake his brother up.

“Hell.”

He bit back a groan that was a cross between his growing temper at whoever the hell had been putting this crap back in Sam’s head and frustration that even though he was mostly asleep Sam could still actually argue with him.

“No, smart ass. I do not regret making the deal that sent me to Hell because you’re alive and that, baby boy, is all that ever matters to me,” Dean returned. He started to continue so he could shut down any other things Sam might see as his fault when he saw the way Sam’s eyes suddenly flickered at the use of the one nickname that only Dean was allowed to use, and only when it was just the two of them. “Can you hear me, Sam?” he asked, and while he didn’t think Sam was awake enough yet to reply he felt the first touch of shaking fingers move until they latched onto one of the belt loops of Dean’s soaking wet jeans.

Ever since they’d been boys Dean knew Sam hated to be called ‘Sammy’ but had slowly adjusted until he’d allow it from Dean. It was how Sam could tell when things were good between them. The other nickname, the one that Dean was careful to never use except at certain times, was one only Dean could ever use without Sam reacting swiftly and usually with a fist to the person’s face.

It was also the one nickname that Dean hadn’t used since his return. Now, as he felt Sam slowly start to respond to him, saw that his eyes, while still glassy, did seem to start to clear, Dean felt his lips curve up slowly as he quickly shut the shower off before he pulled Sam away from the wall to nudge him towards the sink after wrapping a towel around his brother’s too narrow waist.

The mirror was steamed from the hot shower running, so with a quick wipe of his hand, Dean stepped up close behind where Sam seemed to be supporting himself on the sink as their eyes met in the glass. Sam’s were still unclear, but Dean could almost see his brother struggling with whatever he was seeing in his mind as he spoke to him in the deep, low, quiet voice that was also only for Sam.

“Come back to me, baby boy,” he whispered after leaning in closer to let his lips brush over Sam’s ear to whisper words to his brother that he hoped Sam would remember him saying to him as Dean had fought to expel the furious Archangel. “I fought for you…my Sammy. Listen to me now and come back to me. Reach for me like you told me to reach for you that day in Bobby’s lot.”

It had been nearly nine months…nine long, agonizing, exhausting, and brutal months since Sam Winchester’s world had been changed in more than one way. It had been nine months since, in defeating one nightmare, Sam had been forced into a much worse one. On the day Lucifer was killed, so they hoped, Sam had to face the very real fact that he also might have watched his older brother die when Michael assumed full control and vanished from the church leaving both Sam as well as Jack Kline lost and confused.

The images of that day, of remembering that he’d been ready to face his death in order to protect Jack from Lucifer at the same time as Jack had been telling Sam to kill him, had been nothing compared to the shock Sam had felt upon realizing in stunned horror with Dean’s sudden arrival what his brother must have done the moment those wings materialized.

Of course, the worst was still to come. Soon after realizing that Lucifer might finally be gone, that his fears and nightmares of the former Archangel might finally be able to be put to rest, and that after years of trying he and Dean had finally defeated the Devil, Sam would learn that any celebration was to be short-lived at the first sound of pain from his brother. Sam had been as powerless then to react, to help his brother from being taken over by the lying Michael, as Dean had been one night in Detroit when Sam’s plan to trap Lucifer had backfired.

Every night for nine months Sam had woken up screaming Dean’s name as he relived watching every piece of his brother vanish in front of him moments before Dean’s body was whisked away with Michael now in full control.

For those next nine months nothing was more important to Sam Winchester than finding some way, some obscure piece of lore, a spell, a deal, something that would give him even the slimmest chance at forcing Michael out of Dean’s body and back into the slowly healing vessel that had been Michael’s in the alternate world that he’d come from.

Sam understood that Dean wouldn’t want him to do some of the things he had in his quest to save him. He understood that his brother would have wanted him to stay away, to let him go if it meant protecting himself as well as those few still in their lives that could be hurt or killed in an attempt to save him. Sam really had understood that… he just didn’t give a goddamn and swore on the night that he’d nearly broken his hand on the jaw of a grim-faced Castiel that he would save his brother or die trying.

‘ _You can’t save him, Sam.’ had been the angel’s grim words after learning what had happened in the church. ‘If Michael has assumed full control of his chosen vessel then there’s no way to… you are aware that punching me only hurts yourself, correct?_ ’

Sam was still ice cold and numb inside from realizing that he might never see Dean again so a broken hand wasn’t anything worse than that in his mind. In fact, the pain from that had been minor in comparison to some of the pain inflicted in the nine months that he struggled to not only find but free Dean from something so much worse than even a demon’s possession.

‘ _You need to eat, Sam. You need to sleep. You need to…you need to stop. Dean wouldn’t want you to go down this road._ ’ Arthur Ketch, the former British Men of Letter’s prime assassin had been the one to finally say the words that no one else in the former Men of Letters bunker had wanted to voice. It had become plain early on the lengths in which Sam would go in his need to save the brother that had always given so much for him.

‘ _Dean gave up his childhood for me. He gave up any chance to ever get out from under Dad’s thumb in order to give me a shot at freedom. He went to Hell for me! He came to Stull that day and nearly let Lucifer beat the living hell out of him using my hands! He let Lucifer nearly kill him to save me! He stuck it out with me while I was soulless, thanks again Castiel, he stayed with me while I was that bastard even after I let him be turned into a fucking vampire! Dean fought to get my soul back despite the dangers to him. He has fought for me my entire goddamn life and I will do the same for him or I will die!_ ’ Sam had shouted one night when a fight with a witch and a bunch of demons had nearly proved too much for him after very little sleep or food. ‘ _There has to be a spell, a book, or someone who knows of a spell to force that bastard out of Dean because my brother is not that Michael’s true vessel so that means there should be a way to drag him out and shove him back inside the guy who’s currently a shell in my dungeon!’_

In truth, Sam wasn’t sure how the whole true vessel crap worked since he and Dean had always gone by what they’d been told and since so much of that turned out to be lies used to control them the hunter now wasn’t certain how much of the vessel story had been true and how much had been lies told to get them to agree.

Nine months, very little food or sleep, as well as an uneasy truce between an angel, a witch, and the current holder of the Death title found Sam Winchester in the old junkyard where he and Dean had spent varying parts of their lives and finally face to face with his brother’s body while wondering if what he’d felt in that moment had been what Dean had felt that day in Stull Cemetery.

It hadn’t been the first time he’d confronted Michael since the alternate world Archangel had claimed control of Dean’s body. Sam had the lasting marks and scars from those few other times, but this time, both he and the smug Archangel had seemed to know this meeting would be their final time one way or another, Sam had come in with somewhat of a better plan even if it hadn’t looked like it to their friends and family. Only Sam knew that in his heart a piece of him hadn’t honestly expected the spell that Naomi had reluctantly given him to give to Rowena would actually work. He’d been stabbed in the back by angels before but had put all of his faith in the hope that the angel’s need to have a power source for Heaven would outweigh her need to betray the Winchesters again.

The fight between him and Michael hadn’t been easy even with an ancient spell working to weaken Michael’s hold on Dean’s mind and body. It had been brutal, painful and with a few things said that Sam inwardly prayed his brother would never recall being said by either Sam or Michael, wherever he might have been while trapped inside his own mind. But in the end, if Sam had to be honest, he didn’t think it had been the powers of Heaven, or Rowena, or even Death that had helped Dean’s consciousness break Michael’s control in those last few seconds that had his own fingers wrapped around Sam’s throat.

No, if the younger Winchester had to be honest with himself or anyone who asked now it hadn’t been ancient lore, spells, or witchcraft that had caused the first real break in Michael’s control, but the small bronze amulet that Sam had managed to press into the hand not crushing his windpipe.

Cold blue eyes flickered rapidly back to a hazy green as Dean Winchester struggled to fight to regain control, as he fought to stop his own body from killing his brother even as the hunter knew the possession of the Archangel had done too much internal damage to allow him to survive long even if he could expel Michael from his body.

The internal fight between Dean and Michael went unheard by Sam or any of their allies that day. Only Dean knew what had happened in those final moments before either Rowena’s spell or the need to protect a boy that he’d been protecting nearly all his life had caused the hunter to be able to force the words that had come into his thoughts to expel Michael and then drop to the ground in agony before suddenly all the pain was gone and Dean realized he was alone in his thoughts and opened blurry eyes to lock onto glassy, scared hazel ones as Sam knelt next to him on the dirt ground; clutching his hand and begging Dean to be okay, to come back and not give up, to fight and come back.

‘ _Fought…for you…my…Sammy. I’d always…fight to…come back to you.’_

Those words mixed with other voices, other times were all jumbling themselves up in Sam’s head as he struggled to wake from his most recent nightmare.

Sam knew in the time since that day in Bobby’s junkyard that he’d started to avoid Dean; an odd thing that confused most of the people around them given the things that Sam had done to save his brother. It was only Sam who understood the reasons he was now almost afraid to face Dean, to eventually have that talk that would lead them to see how much of the nine months Dean did recall or what he might remember being said or what Michael might have said to Dean at the end.

Sam also knew he needed to avoid his brother until more of the recent wounds healed or else all of his brother’s concern would go to helping Sam heal instead of focusing on healing himself, of getting his own strength back after basically being a captive inside his own mind for so long. The lectures had all come that Sam knew would be there. Their mother had lectured about Sam still not eating or sleeping right while even Rowena had started to lecture him in a tone that the younger Winchester swore was almost like a Scottish ‘Mom’ tone.

He ignored Castiel’s comments mainly because Sam was still ignoring the angel’s earlier words when he’d ‘helpfully’ tried to convince Sam it was best to let Dean go and focus on killing Michael regardless of the fact that the Archangel was currently using the elder Winchester as a host body. It had been Bobby and Ketch who had stopped that line of thought even though this Bobby had every reason to want Michael killed. He’d stood up to the idea of killing Michael over freeing Dean. Ketch’s comments had once again reminded Sam that at some point they really did need to learn what other gadgets the British Men of Letters had or what ones Ketch could still get access to since whatever the former assassin had said to Castiel while Sam was too busy throwing up from an infection on his back seemed to have convinced the angel to back off.

That night, Sam had almost gone to see Dean because he knew if he slept he’d wake up. He hated to freak his brother out with the kind of nightmares that usually ended with Sam screaming either for Dean or for the pain to stop as having Dean as a vessel for an Archangel had also brought back too many other nightmares for the younger hunter.

The last thing Sam remembered was going to his room with plans to read, to scroll his laptop for lore, or find anything to keep him awake so the nightmares stayed away. Part of his tired mind still believed one morning he’d wake up to find Dean still gone, and Sam wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle that.

In bleary memories, Sam thought he’d heard various voices talking around him. He dimly thought he’d heard Jack say something about him and Dean needing to be with one another so they could have sex but knew that couldn’t have happened because they’d worked damn hard to not make love in the bunker while Jack was there. Sam thought he’d heard Dean’s voice -the deep ‘get the hell away from my brother or die’ voice- speak up but again in the back of Sam’s mind where all his doubts and fears once again dwelled knew he’d just been dreaming that as well. Except for those words spoken back at Bobby’s, Dean hadn’t said much to anyone.

The feel of hot water and warm familiar hands touching him seemed to start to bring Sam out of the part of his mind where his recent nightmare had chased him. He hated the dreams where he relived the bitter fights he and his brother had had over the years, the hurtful words, the painful exchanges of blows on more than one occasion. Sam especially hated those nightmares now that they mixed with the brutal words that still rang in his head of how in the end it would always be his fault that Dean once again sacrificed himself for him and was now trapped like Sam could recall being trapped while Lucifer had control.

A piece of Sam thought he could hear Dean talking to him. He thought he’d surely heard his brother cursing when he’d seen the cuts Sam had made on his own arms in his fight to keep sane and awake while trying to find a way to free Dean.

Flashes of memories, recent and from years ago hit him but it was the constant deep voice talking to him, the feel of familiar calloused fingers touching him that slowly started to bring Sam back, to have him reach through the fog of memories and doubts for that one voice that had always been able to lead him back from the depths of Hell and his own mind. The voice of the one person that Sam hoped he hadn’t let down too badly.

“You’d never let me down, Sammy.”

Sam knew that wasn’t true but he suddenly didn’t have the strength to argue with…

“D…De’n?” he opened his eyes to find himself staring into the shower room mirror into deep, clear, but also worried green eyes as Dean stood behind him with one arm wrapped around Sam’s chest while his other was carding back wet hair so their eyes could meet in the mirror.

“Regardless of what anyone, including myself in one of my more stupid moments, might ever have said to you, you could never let me down, Sam,” Dean spoke slowly once he was certain that Sam seemed more awake now to hear him after spending the last 15 minutes talking to Sam, touching him as he worked to clean a few too many infected wounds or scars while deciding to hold off shaving his brother when he felt Sam start to shake harder and knew his brother was fully waking up. “You back with me now, little brother?” he asked while starting to let go only to feel Sam suddenly reach up to catch his arm before it could move away. “Sammy?”

Blinking his eyes rapidly to clear them, Sam took a second to look around to see they were in the shower room. He took brief notice that while he had a towel around his waist he could see that Dean’s jeans and black t-shirt were both soaked and clinging to his brother in a way that Sam really knew he had to avoid thinking about at that moment. “Don’t… don’t let go.”

A part of Sam knew it was foolish, but right that second he needed to feel the strength of Dean’s arm as it was wrapped around his chest. He needed to feel, to hear his brother as he worked to wake up the rest of the way and battle past the fears, the pain and so much more that Sam wasn’t sure how to express. In the span of the time that it took him to fully clear his vision he could feel Dean pulling him back more against his chest.

“I’ve got you, baby boy,” Dean murmured, lips close to Sam’s ear. He felt Sam shudder, but wasn’t sure if it was from leftover feelings from whatever he’d dreamed or the feel of warm breath ghosting over his neck. Dean let his lips just barely touch the hard line of Sam’s beard covered jaw before he went on in the same deep, husky, honey-coated sex tone that seemed to be second nature to him when it came to Sam at times like this. “I’ll never let go of you, Sammy. You’ve been mine since the first day Mom put you in my arms and you’ll be mine until we both go out in that blaze of glory together.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat Sam forced himself to blink his eyes clear of the sudden burning tears that he did not want to fall right then, but knew he’d lost that battle when he felt calloused fingertips gently brush over his cheek. “Is this real or am I still dreaming?” he asked, wincing at how ragged his voice sounded to his own ears so he could only imagine how he really sounded when he saw that one muscle on Dean’s face tighten like it did when his older brother was less than thrilled about something. “Are you really here, Dean?”

It might have seemed like an odd question to others but not to Dean. He’d heard the same hesitant fear and uncertainty in Sam’s voice too many times to not understand both the tone and the reason his brother’s fingers shook when they tightened on the arm Dean still had wrapped around Sam’s chest.

“Yeah, Sammy, I’m really here. I’m with you, little brother.” Dean kept his eyes on Sam’s face in the mirror to see the rest of the shadows slowly clearing from his eyes to finally lock on his as if just seeing him fully.

Years of being together, of raising Sam, of hunting together, of knowing one another so well let Dean know what was going to happen soon. He could see the inner struggle Sam seemed to be having with himself about turning to face him, to accept that Dean was back with him and let the walls down that Sam appeared to have built in the last nine months.

Slowly, much like he had at other times over the years, Dean carefully shifted the hand that he’d kept moving back through Sam’s hair down until it rested over his brother’s heart. He felt it beating faster than he cared for but chose to ignore that for the moment in favor of watching Sam’s face as he gave the normal no chick flick moment rule a hard kick.

“You got me back, Sammy,” he went on, letting his voice drop to the deeper one that only when emotions were high between them came out in Dean. It was also the voice that he knew Sam understood was one that Dean would only give to him. “You didn’t give up on me, little brother. True, I probably won’t be thrilled to learn how you got all of these new scars or wounds, or that you’ve run yourself into the ground by not eating or sleeping, or that you started cutting yourself again but we’ll cope with that lecture later,” Dean added, feeling Sam’s body start to relax a little against his chest. He knew it was safe to try to turn his brother to face him but made sure to stay close so that his hands remained on Sam in some way as he noticed Sam’s fingers had curled on the edge of the sink that he was now leaning again. “I know I… he… hurt you. I know some of these wounds were caused by my hands but you still kept fighting him, fighting for me. You didn’t give up on me, on us and I am so damn proud of you, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes had started to lower since he hadn’t wanted Dean to ever know some of the things he’d done this time but they snapped back up at those words to see one side of his brother’s lips curving up into a slow smile; the one real smile that Dean had when it was just them, when the walls of snark and sarcasm came down and Dean allowed himself to be open.

“De’n…I…” Sam had so much he wanted to say but after so long apart it almost felt like it had right after the fire at Stanford and they started hunting together again. A piece of Sam longed to reach out, to touch Dean but couldn’t seem to make his fingers release their grip on the sink. The fear of this still being one of his all too real dreams making the younger man fight against what his heart and head were telling him until something else suddenly caught his attention and his hand was lifting to lightly touch the amulet that once again hung around Dean’s neck. “You…God, it’s solid,” he whispered once his fingertips touched the bronze little amulet that had always meant so much between them. Then Sam’s eyes once again lifted to meet Dean’s but this time he didn’t bother to fight the burning tears. “You’re solid.”

Those simple whispered words and the light, almost hesitant touch told Dean more about Sam’s recent days than anything else could have. So much of the older brother inside him ached for the pain, emotional and physical, that Sam had been enduring in the time Michael controlled him.

Keeping his one hand where it rested over Sam’s heart, Dean lifted his other up so he could wrap his fingers around the back of Sam’s neck, bringing his brother’s head closer until their foreheads touched. It was a familiar gesture he used when needing to express things that Dean wasn’t certain how to express vocally, and one he hoped would help him now.

“Yeah, I’m solid, Sam,” Dean murmured, voice deep and low while brushing his lips just barely over a cheek and feeling Sam’s fingers close over both the amulet and the wet t-shirt. “I’m real,” he repeated the kiss over Sam’s other cheek. “I’m home. I’m with you, Sammy,” he added with a kiss to the center of Sam’s forehead and heard his brother’s breath catch so knew what to expect to happen when he spoke next. “I love you, little brother.”

Those words, so simple and heartfelt, along with the feel of strong hands and warm lips were what finally broke the walls that Sam Winchester had built to protect himself every time he’d woken up alone for the last nine months. Sam felt the fingers on his neck tighten just enough to know it was safe, so when he felt the tug forward Sam went with it and heard the first sob break even as he was feeling Dean’s arms wrapping around him and every emotion just poured out in a rush.

The second Dean felt shaking arms slowly slip around his waist to hold on as tightly as Sam had the strength to right then, he tightened his own and then just held on and let Sam vent.

Dean knew his exhausted sibling probably had no clue to how tight he was holding on or when Sam’s one hand clenched in the back of Dean’s wet t-shirt while his other had moved back around until it clutched the amulet as the soft, ragged words of pain, guilt, fear and loss all began to run together with broken sobs.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat as he listened to Sam, Dean worked hard to bury both the hunter and over protective brother that both wanted to rip people, monsters, and an angel apart as he listened to things he doubted very much if Sam would have revealed if he’d been even a little more awake or alert.

It had never been easy for Dean to listen to when Sam was hurt or drunk to the point where he’d babble since it never failed to trigger his temper when his little brother put himself down or called himself stupid or a failure much less the reason for Dean to have been hurt anytime in their lives.

Right then as he held on a little tighter when he felt Sam start to shake harder, Dean knew his focus was the younger man in his arms; anything or anyone else could wait until he had Sam calm and a bit more back to normal as far as sleeping and eating went.

Feeling Sam shake at the same time as his voice broke off as if struggling to find his breath; Dean knew it was time to finally speak now that he thought his brother might be able to hear him. “Shh, it’s okay now, Sammy. I’m home. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, little brother,” he spoke in a voice that Dean knew was deeper, huskier than his usual one but also knew it was one Sam would still recognize since it was the voice that only came out when emotions were high and Dean had let his own walls down so it wasn’t the hard as nails hunter speaking but Sam’s older brother, the one that had been his sole comfort growing up in the Impala’s backseat.

Careful to keep one arm wrapped around Sam as he felt his legs begin to shake more, Dean shifted them so that he could move until Sam was leaning back on the sink counter. His brother continued to hold on to him with a grip that told Dean that a part of Sam was still afraid to let go while he’d turned his face more to the side so it was buried against Dean’s neck and the sensation of hot tears could be felt.

Dean’s free hand lifted to rest on the back of Sam’s neck and just let his fingers squeeze with just enough grip to comfort, to reassure his brother like he had years earlier when they’d been kids and speaking his reassurances to Sam hadn’t always been possible.

“I know you won’t remember what I say to you now and I’ll be repeating it in a few days when you wake up but right this second while you calm back down and sit here to let me shave you I want you to listen to what I say, little brother,” Dean began after he felt Sam suddenly go still against him and the ragged breathing and broken sobs had all slowed down. Dean figured the worst of this purge was over and it was safe to gently ease his brother back just enough to look at him. He didn’t let on when Sam’s grip on the amulet remained tight even though he did let go of the back of Dean’s t-shirt, but restless fingers caught the bottom of it as if still needing that connection. “You remotely awake or with me, Geek Boy?” he asked with a small smile to let Sam know he wasn’t upset with him over any of things his brother seemed to think was his fault. “Sammy? I need to know if you’re awake before I even start to bring a blade close to your face.”

“Yeah.” Sam’s eyed were still glassy and still too huge for Dean’s liking but at least they had some golds and greens now mixed in which told the older brother that Sam was more alert than he had been earlier. “I…I can shave…”

“Yeah, right, sure you can, Sammy,” Dean snorted at that comment but felt a bit of the tight ball of tension in his belly start to uncoil at the small bitch face he saw from the corner of his eye as he tried to keep his grip on Sam, let his brother keep hold of both his amulet and the bottom of his shirt while trying to find what he was looking for in a drawer under the sink. “Why haven’t you shaved, Sam?” he decided to ask, not expecting an answer so was shocked to actually get one.

“Too busy, too tired, didn’t want to…you weren’t here.” Sam’s tone was still a little too mono-toned for Dean’s liking, but he’d take it so long as his brother was speaking and seemed to know he was with him and not a dream. “Once I considered keeping it but…”

Grunting as he stretched a little too far in his attempt to reach the item he was searching for and nearly choked when Sam’s grip on the amulet didn’t ease up, Dean shot a look back to see that Sam’s gaze was on him; another good sign in the hunter’s point of view.

“Okay, if I take off my amulet so you can hold it rather than choke me with it and let you hold onto my shirt, can I shave you?” Dean asked while choosing to take a better look at Sam with the beard he’d let grow and flipping a mental coin over what he wanted to say next since it could have a couple reactions tossed at him from his brother. “Oh… and if you want to keep that beard, anything else we do is off the table since while I love you more than anything in my life including my car, little brother, you look way too much like Dad with that beard on and kissing you much less making love with you would just be too weird…”

“Shave it off.” Sam was awake enough, alert enough that while he still had some inner fears that he might be dreaming he also knew that if keeping the beard might keep Dean from kissing him much less anything else then it was time to get rid of it. “You shave it. I’ll shave it…hell, Charlie threatened to knock me out so she could shave it if I didn’t get rid of it soon so…your jaw is twitching,” he murmured when he noticed the familiar action, fingers lifting as if wanting to touch his brother’s face but still held back.

“Yeah, because it seems like tomorrow or whenever I decide to leave your side I have to sit every goddamn person in this bunker down and repeat the lecture that anyone, friend or in a couple cases tense ally, that touches you or threatens to touch you will end up with me in their goddamn faces,” Dean returned with a mutter about well-meaning, alternate reality redheads, slipping the amulet off and pressing it into Sam’s hand as he finally found what he’d been searching for in the drawer. He looked back up at Sam to catch the raised hand as it was dropping to lift it up to his own face and covering it with his hand. “Number One rule, baby boy. No one touches you without losing a lung or other vital body part as soon as I find out about it. Now riddle me this Boy Genius, do you still trust me enough to shave you with this?”

Sam had almost considered using one of his better bitch faces at the stupidity of his brother asking if he still trusted him when it clicked that Dean was more asking if he trusted him to use the straight razor rather than the normal electric shaver or even a hand razor.

Flicking his eyes to the straight razor as if considering, before looking back at Dean to feel the strength of the hand his older brother had placed over his own as it rested on the side of Dean’s face, gave the younger Winchester the only answer he’d ever need in response to whether he trusted his brother. “Yes,” he replied and swore he’s legs got weaker at the same time as his heart slammed against his chest just from the sight of Dean’s smile.

It wasn’t the slow, teasing sexy one that Sam was sure would come before this was over but the one true, honest smile that he’d learned years ago Dean only gave to him since it was only with Sam that Dean’s emotional walls would drop at times like this; times when they were alone and no walls were needed.

“Remember when you were 17?” Dean asked and this time his tone did drop just a notch, easing his hand away but holding Sam’s gaze to let him know it was alright to keep his hand where it was or that he could touch him if he wanted to. “The first time I offered to shave you with this?”

“Yeah, but this time I don’t have a broken arm or a sprained wrist and you have on way too many clothes for a repeat…oh fuck,” Sam’s voice broke off the moment Dean stepped back enough to peel the wet t-shirt off over his head before stepping closer to place shaking fingers over his own anti-possession tattoo. “God, I hope if this is a dream I don’t wake up yet.”

“Not a dream, Sammy,” Dean understood why a part of Sam still feared this wasn’t real and understood that it would take time even after this to reassure his brother that he wasn’t going to vanish during the night. “I’ll prove that soon but right now how do you want to do this?”

As much as Sam wanted to keep his eyes on Dean’s face he also wanted to watch the slow show that he knew from the previous time his brother did this that Dean could turn a simple shave into. Turning to face the mirror, he saw the corner of Dean’s mouth curve up into the slow, sexy smile he had and knew his brother understood.

Sam watched as Dean tested the sharpness of the straight razor on his thumb before giving it a few slow glides over the leather strap that Sam recalled Dean explaining that one time. It was how he was taught by their Dad to sharpen the old straight blade that John Winchester had said once belonged to his own father.

The slowness of the razor gliding over the strap caused Sam to shiver as he recalled the night when he’d been 17 and had been injured. He’d felt the slowness of that sharp blade gliding over the skin of his face, cutting a slow path through the shaving cream that had been slathered on and then followed by calloused fingertips.

Sam recalled that night well and now as he heard the sound of the shaving cream can he watched in the mirror as Dean applied the cream slowly, carefully until it covered Sam’s face, wiped his hands on a wet cloth and then picked up the razor.

“Tell me if you get tired or need to sit down,” Dean murmured, lips close to Sam’s ear as their eyes locked in the mirror and the same silent message that always seemed to pass between them did so now. There were moments, like now, that Sam didn’t need to hear the words to know how his brother felt and vice versa. “Watch me, Sammy,” he whispered, lips curving into the slow seductive smile that Dean had perfected by the time he was 16. “Watch me, listen to my voice, and focus on me. Forget the last nine months of hell, forget the fear, forget the pain, forget any misplaced guilt since there is none of that on you and by the time I’m done I promise to take the rest of those shadows out of your eyes.”

Standing still, Sam closed his fingers on the edge of the sink at the feel of the slow swipe of the razor sharp blade over his cheek, watching the way Dean stood just behind him with his left hand supporting Sam’s head so it didn’t move while the straight razor in his right moved with precise strokes to carefully, almost gently remove the layers of beard that Sam had allowed to grow while distracted with trying to save his brother.

Four strokes had removed a good deal of the beard from the left side of Sam’s face and now with each stroke Dean could feel Sam relaxing back against him more as if the more beard that was removed, the more Sam trusted that this moment was real between them.

Careful to keep an eye on Sam’s face in the mirror, Dean could see that while his brother still looked exhausted, still looked pale, that his hazel eyes were clearer than they had been earlier and figured that anything he said to Sam now might be remembered and understood.

“You do know that nothing Michael said to you any of those times you faced him down, especially the last time at Bobby’s, was true, right?” Dean felt Sam tense and open his eyes after they’d almost drifted closed at the feel of the razor in Dean’s hand gliding along his face, down his throat and back up again in an almost soothing motion. “I heard it all, Sammy. I heard what he said to you and…” he paused to gently pause the razor so he could press a soft kiss to the shoulder nearest where Dean stood, hearing the change in Sam’s breathing as this topic was broached. “I heard what you said to him. No. Stay still and listen to me.”

Staying still right now was hard for Sam since the last thing he wanted right then was to risk igniting a fight or hear the disappointment in Dean’s voice over a few of the things Sam recalled being said back and forth between himself and Michael that final time. He had hoped that his brother hadn’t heard or remembered anything Michael had done while in control or said to him much less the things Sam had said in return, but a touch to his face made his eyes lift again but only saw calm green ones looking back.

Unsure what to say or much less how to begin to say what came to the tip of his tongue, Sam started to speak only to go still at the touch of a finger against his lips.

“Nothing that has ever happened between us or to me has ever been your fault,” Dean knew those doubts were always deep in Sam’s heart even though he’d worked damn hard to try to get rid of them. “Michael, this version, had no clue about us, our past, or the things we’ve done for one another. He used my own thoughts, my own memories of the things I’ve done to protect you to try to hurt you, Sammy. He wanted to give you enough doubts, enough fear that I blamed you for those things when I’ve told you before and I’ll keep telling you that any goddamn thing that I have ever done for you was done to protect you or keep you safe,” he caught Sam’s jaw in his hand when it went to move so he could keep their gazes locked in the mirror while giving the straight razor a few more swipes.

“If there is any guilt to be had this time it’s mine for the things he did, that he said while in control of my body; not only to you but to others. It’ll be a long time before I get over that guilt or the consequences of the things that were done but…” Dean stopped to slowly turn Sam to face him, letting his fingertips glide over Sam’s now cleanly shaved faced before reaching for a cloth to wipe any leftover shaving cream away. “I told you earlier and I’ll tell you now, I do not regret saying yes to him because I’d be dead before I let you be hurt again by that bastard again.

“Regardless of what anyone said to you while I was…gone, this is not your fault and if the last thing I ever do is have to give my life to protect you from anyone or anything then that’s what I’ll do because…” Dean paused to reach up and frame Sam’s face between his palms, seeing the emotion both on his brother’s face and in his eyes to know what would soon happen. For once, the older Winchester didn’t give a damn as he’d spent nine months wondering if he’d ever get the chance to see Sam again much less touch him or say what he was about to. “I love you.”

Those three words, spoken in the low, deep voice that Dean only used with Sam, were still the ones he spoke few and far between but were also the ones that Sam knew when Dean did speak them that he meant them.

Hearing them right at that moment, feeling the warmth and strength in the hands that were gently framing his face while Dean’s eyes were steady but just a deeper green as emotions built finally gave Sam the inner strength to do what he’d been longing to ever since Dean first woke up after being freed from Michael’s control.

Keeping the amulet clenched in his one hand, Sam’s other reached up to touch Dean’s face before moving down to cover his heart, feeling it beat under his hand while Dean’s right hand moved up to card back through Sam’s hair as if to get it out of his face.

“Yours?” Sam asked, voice quiet as if still unsure until he was then sure he lost the ability to breathe much less speak as Dean’s lips curved into the slow sexy smile a second before he closed the remaining small gap between them so their chests touched.

“Mine, baby boy,” Dean replied, lips close enough that he could feel Sam’s breath but still held back from doing what he knew they both were longing for. “You’re mine until you can tell me otherwise, Sammy.”

Sam shuddered at the feel of warm breath ghosting over his neck, dropping his other hand until he felt his fingers find the belt loops of wet jeans. “Forever?” he gasped as he felt himself bump back into the sink as Dean finished closing any space between them. He heard the low chuckle at the same time as the hand that had still been resting on his face slid back up to grasp the back of his neck with strong fingers.

“Forever or until we both go out in that blaze of glory, little brother,” Dean could feel Sam’s body shaking, he felt his fingers gripping his jeans as if seeking some form of contact right then. Looking up he saw that while Sam’s eyes still weren’t fully clear like he’d have preferred, they also weren’t as glassy as they had been earlier either, so he figured he’d toss his usual rules out the window by asking one more question to see where the proverbial cards between them landed. “One more question, Sammy,” he went on before Sam could give him the look that Dean knew would be coming. “Can I kiss you?”

“God, yes!” Sam said and then lost what ability to think he’d regained the moment Dean tugged him forward into his arms and their lips met in a kiss that Sam knew never failed to both take his breath away and melt his brains.

Ever since the first time Sam had convinced Dean to kiss him, whenever they were apart for any amount of time it always reminded Sam of their first time. He almost always felt the same jittery nerves in the pit of his stomach at the concerns of not doing something right or being unable to please his brother since growing up there’d been times when Sam had wanted to punch more than a few of the girls who’d dated his brother after hearing them brag about kissing him.

Since they’d been trying not to kiss much less make out in the bunker since Jack’s been with them it felt like even longer than the nine months Dean had been gone that Sam had felt his brother’s hands on him much less to have Dean kiss him.

Knowing this and having seen the deeper green of his brother’s eyes, Sam had been expecting a searing hot kiss when he went with the tug that took him away from the sink and into Dean’s arms as their mouths met in their first kiss in almost ten months. Expecting fast, hard, and hot left Sam’s still tired brain struggling to catch up or not melt when the second Dean’s lips touched his and the kiss immediately changed.

From the first second that he’d touched Sam that night it had never been a question in Dean’s mind if and when he kissed him how it would be. He suspected the type of kiss that Sam might have been expecting given the time they’d been apart and the need that had been building for both brothers that night. Dean had noticed the towel around Sam’s waist had been showing his body’s interest in the way he’d been touching him, and Dean knew his own jeans were getting tighter, but the moment he’d moved to pull Sam into his arms to kiss him it wasn’t with heat or haste. This kiss, much like the first time he’d ever given himself permission to kiss his brother was slow, sweet, and gentle.

It was hard for Dean to keep the kiss slow, to not allow it to heat or to rush it the moment he felt Sam relax in his arms, felt him return the kiss almost shyly like Sam was prone to do when they hadn’t kissed or touched in a while, his body wanted more.

Images, memories of other times in the shower room flooded Dean’s mind but hurried shower sex wasn’t what Dean planned for Sam that night. He just had to convince his own body as well as his suddenly impatient little brother to slow things down or at least wait until they hit a bedroom as he felt Sam’s hands move as if to reach for the zipper and button on Dean’s still wet jeans.

“Whoa, easy tiger,” Dean chuckled as he broke the kiss long enough to catch both of Sam’s hands in one of his while spinning them so Sam’s back hit the closest wall with his arms stretched above him while Dean made sure to step back in close enough so their chests bumped and he could still run his mouth along the hard edge of Sam’s jaw; hearing the soft sounds his brother was making that were both need and frustration. “The jeans stay on until we hit my room since the last thing I want to do is take time to explain that to Mom if she happens to still be in the bunker and catches us in the hall.” He smiled at the mumbled response that earned him.

“I know you do. I want to touch you so damn bad, Sammy, but I also plan to take my time making love to every inch of you tonight,” Dean paused to place a soft kiss to the corner of Sam’s mouth. “Before I make love with you, I will have kissed every inch of you that I know makes you both smile and also burn for more,” he caught Sam’s bottom lip that had almost but not quite jutted out in a small pout between his teeth to draw it slowly into his mouth just to hear the sounds he knew he could draw from his brother with that move before giving another kiss to the center of Sam’s forehead and felt the way Sam relaxed in his grip. “Can I make love with you, Sammy?” he asked and then held his breath.

Sam was fairly certain now that he was awake, that his nightmares were mostly over because he had his brother back with him. He was also fairly certain he might strangle his brother if Dean really did plan to move this slowly since right then he knew his towel was tented and damp from his very active cock.

The younger Winchester longed for the feel of Dean’s hands on him in some way when suddenly his brother’s question clicked and Sam’s eyes that had drifted closed while they kissed snapped open to see Dean watching him closely.

At first, the question confused Sam since he wasn’t sure why the hell Dean would ask permission to do what they’d been doing since Sam hit 17. Then the way Dean looked at him, the way his free hand touched the center of Sam’s chest hit him and Sam knew the reasons. He knew, and it took every ounce of inner strength not to lose what emotional control he’d gained back since waking fully tonight in the shower room with his brother.

From the first time they’d crossed the line from brothers to lovers Sam understood that control and choice were vital to his brother and while control was always in Dean’s corner Sam knew that he always had the ability to make the choice of what they did or when.

After the fire at Stanford when they started to hunt again and they picked up this side of their lives, the first night had been a lot like this one and Sam knew he’d been a raw, emotional mess so even after they landed on Dean’s bed the first thing after kissing him senseless that Dean had done was ask Sam if he could make love to him.

Blinking the tears that wanted to fall clear of his eyes, Sam met and held Dean’s gaze for another second before nodding. “My answer to that question will always be the same as the first night you asked me, Dean,” he said, voice shaky from emotions Sam didn’t want to escape right then and risk what he hoped was happening between them. “Yes, you can. Yes, I want you to. Yes, for the love of God or Chuck please make love to me before I…mmhm!”

Dean’s mouth caught Sam’s in a kiss that cut the words off. While it was slightly more heated than before, the elder Winchester was still careful to control both the heat as well as the speed as he pulled Sam away from the wall and back into his arms while deciding the best way to get them to his bedroom before his anxious little brother had them making out in the hallway.

Sam was barely aware of anything right then but the feel of Dean’s mouth as it kissed him or the feel of calloused hands roaming over his back, down to his waist while every time Sam’s fingers inched toward the annoying denim he could feel he heard his brother growl at him.

“Not fair… that I’m only in a towel while you… fuck, I forgot what your mouth could feel like there… while you still have on your damn jeans, Dean.” Sam muttered, briefly considering bringing up the issue of the bunker not being empty when he recalled something his brother had said earlier. “And… it’s easier to explain to Mom about her sons making out in the hall than it would be to explain your lack of those damn jeans?”

“Considering Jack’s obsessed it seems with us being together so we can have sex, his words, I’m halfway certain Mom might already be aware of what else we’ve been doing,” Dean replied in between kissing Sam’s throat while also managing to get them out of the shower room, down the hall, thru the bunker’s hall, that the hunter decided had grown by fifty feet it seemed, and keep his jeans intact. “And yeah, explaining that would be easier than getting caught without my jeans by our mother. Now if you want to explain your lack of that towel to her I’d be only too happy to oblige, little brother,” he added, laughing as he was shot one of Sam’s better bitch faces a moment before Dean’s hand landed on his door and he had them inside, the door kicked shut, locked and Sam’s back against it with his mouth locked on his brother’s in a much more heated kiss before Sam’s brain could process anything else.

Sam was hoping he’d heard Dean wrong about what Jack was saying since he knew how bad that could be but then gave up caring for the moment as he had a brief glimpse of Dean’s bedroom before his back hit the kicked closed and locked door and then met Dean’s next kiss fully.

He felt the tip of a tongue lightly teasing over his lips and let his part on a sound that was part sigh and part moan as Dean’s tongue met his before beginning to explore and tease Sam’s own before his brother pulled back with a groan, green eyes darker as desire grew but still Sam could see his brother’s restraint as Dean’s fingertips began to slowly touch a new scar on his shoulder.

“You… you won’t like some of the things I’ve done to get you back,” Sam said, fighting not to squirm under the suddenly intense green eyes that pinned him. “The things I’ve done, a couple things that have happened to me, the cuts…were the reasons I’ve steered clear since getting you back, Dean,” he paused to breathe, since Dean’s focus seemed to be on a rather sloppy stitch job on his side. He held out the amulet that Dean had let him hold onto earlier. “The first night back I… I wanted to be with you, to sit in here if I couldn’t sleep with you but… I… was scared.”

The last was said on a whisper but because Dean’s focus was on Sam as a whole and not just the wounds he’d seen earlier but now could pay closer attention to. He stopped silently deciding who he was hurting for touching his brother when he looked up. “Scared of me or what he did to you?” he asked, careful to keep his tone level while slipping the amulet on and letting it drop back against his chest; immediately feeling shaking fingers reach for it.

“Scared of disappointing you,” Sam replied, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat as Dean’s eyes locked with his. “I know Cas was right when he said it was my fault that you’d sacrificed yourself again just like you did when I died so I didn’t care what I did or what happened to me just so long as I could get you back and…that vein in your forehead’s pounding again,” he held still as Dean’s hand lifted but instead of lashing out as a piece of him thought might happen, he felt gentle fingers card back thru still damp hair that had fallen into his eyes.

“I’ll deal with Castiel later because he knows damn well not to ever toss that crap on you. He might be getting his ass Holy Oiled after all. As for you ever disappointing me,” Dean paused to shrug off the rush of anger he felt at the Angel he once again reminded himself caused him more hassles than he helped with. He caught Sam’s face between his hands so he could make sure their eyes met as he smiled the one true honest smile that was more often than not reserved for his brother these days. “You, little brother, could never and will never disappoint me.

“Am I going to be happy when you tell me how you got each and every one of these new scars or wounds? Nope, no way in hell but that’s because I’m your big brother and I never like to see you hurt,” Dean went on slowly, slipping one hand down so he could find Sam’s and lacing their fingers together as he began to back up towards his bed. “Am I going to hound your ass until you tell me every goddamn thing that happened to you that made you start cutting yourself again? Hell, yeah, I am because I do not want you to ever take a blade to yourself again and…” he stopped to catch a handful of long dark hair and gave it a measured tug to remind his brother to keep his eyes on his rather than look away like he’d noticed Sam had started to do again. “And you will be telling me every goddamn thing that angel said to you before I decide to deep fry his ass in a vat of Holy Oil but that’s in a day or so when you wake up.”

“You… you think I’m going to sleep for a day or so?” Sam asked while biting back a soft moan of pleasure that also shot right to his cock at the feel of Dean’s fingers in his hair with enough strength to pull his head back but not meant to hurt.

“Well considering you haven’t been sleeping well since I’ve been gone and I plan to keep you really busy the rest of the night…” Dean’s lips curved up into the slow, sexy smile that he knew turned his brother on, leaning closer so his lips just barely touched Sam’s jaw, skimming them up close to his ear and teasing the sensitive earlobe with his teeth until he felt his brother shiver. “You will be sleeping for at least a day once I’m done, baby boy,” he whispered and then gave a gentle shove against Sam’s chest and adoring the laugh he heard as Sam went down on the bed.

Dean had missed a lot while Michael had been in control but the things he missed the most were mainly with Sam. It was rare to get his younger brother to laugh openly since a part of Sam had started to bury his feelings much like he had when they’d been growing up and Sam had struggled not to show all of his often too open emotions when their Dad was around.

“How will you explain that to Mom or anyone else who asks why I’m sleeping so long?” Sam asked while trying to push his hair out of his face with one hand and trying to decide if he wanted to keep the towel on when he felt it tugged away. “Still not fair that you still have the jeans on, dude,” he complained without realizing how easy it felt, how much the tightness in his chest had relaxed with the bantering between them.

“Everyone knows you weren’t sleeping so Mom and the rest will probably be thrilled that your awesome big brother finally got you to sleep more than an hour or two,” Dean’s smile turned up a little as he did unsnap and zip his jeans but left them up while kneeling on his bed to begin to slowly trail his fingers down Sam’s chest but avoided the few wounds that still looked a little too raw for his liking. “If Mom or anyone asks a bit more then I guess I could always let Jack answer since he seems to enjoy telling people we have sex… I just need to figure out how the hell the kid found out about that since we have not had sex in this bunker since he showed up.”

Sam arched up at the feel of teasing fingers ghosting over the space between his hip and groin. “Yeah, tell me about it,” he muttered, trying to ignore the fact that the former Nephilim knew and was going around telling people about it. “Missed that. Missed you more though,” he said, pushing up on his elbows only to get pushed back down by fingertips against his chest.

“Yeah, I’ve missed you too, little brother,” Dean said in return, hearing his tone drop but didn’t bother to fight the emotions he felt right then. He knew what Sam needed from him and trying to hide what he felt for this young man that had once again risked so much for him wasn’t it. “I know I said it earlier but I don’t tell you this enough. I never have because I guess I just thought you knew but that’s not fair to you because I do love you, Sammy,” he said while stretching out beside Sam and knowing by the wide hazel eyes that were colored with desire that he needed to make sure to tell Sam how he felt more as well as show him.

“You were all that I fought back for, Sammy,” he went on, moving his hand back up until it rested over Sam’s anti-possession tattoo while leaning closer so he could begin to place light kisses over the closest scar or wound, new or old. “I knew despite Michael’s bragging or threats that if anyone would fight for me it would be you. It terrified me every time you got close to him though because I knew he was hurting you and I hated him, I hated myself that I couldn’t stop him or control my own body to prevent you from being hurt by him.”

Dean heard Sam’s breathing change, get shorter as if struggling with his own emotions as he reached for Sam’s right hand so he could bring it up and caught the slight wince Sam wasn’t fast enough to hide as Dean’s thumb ran over the wrist where he knew Michael had brutally snapped it. “Tell me Mom or no one else had to threaten Cas over healing any wounds you got from Michael or anyone else,” he lifted his eyes from where he’d been examining Sam’s hand and then his arm since he also recalled hearing the sound of Sam’s arm cracking in multiple places once during his second confrontation with Michael. “Make up an answer fast or else I’m frying his ass tonight.”

“It wasn’t that he didn’t want to heal me he said. It was more that he…didn’t have enough power or something or that’s what he said when Mom and then Bobby got in his face after my arm was broken and I was stabbed by something Rowena accidentally summoned but he did after Ketch threatened him with something he still has access to and I really need to stop talking, don’t I?” Sam heard the sound of teeth gritting and knew his brother’s eyes would be green slits if he looked but just as he started to he felt warm lips press against the pulse point of the wrist Dean was still holding and stayed still to watch as his brother began to slowly kiss his way up his arm. “Dean?”

“I’ll deal with Cas, I’ll deal with everything else once I’m sure you’re alright and you’ve slept and eaten real food that I’ve cooked,” Dean was pissed but reminded himself that Sam was more important and slowly felt himself calming down as he kissed his way up Sam’s arm until he reached his shoulder. “Is my kitchen still in one piece since we both know you can’t cook worth a damn?” he asked while sliding his mouth along Sam’s shoulder, teasing with his teeth until getting to the one spot near his collar bone that Dean knew from past experience always got a reaction from his younger brother.

“Umm, sorta,” Sam gasped as he felt teeth tease over his collar bone before Dean began kissing his neck and Sam knew he’d have marks in the morning or whenever he woke up but didn’t give a damn. “Mom burned up the stove one day and the microwave was a casualty of Bobby trying to heat something up with tin foil and…I like when you shut me up that way,” he murmured after Dean broke the kiss that cut off his description of the events in the kitchen.

“It’s either I shut you up or I’m going to want to go see the damage to my kitchen and I really just want to make out with you right now,” Dean admitted and then finally decided to throw any other concern away and just focus on Sam. “Tell me what you want, little brother, and I mean other than the obvious,” he added with a teasing smirk since he already knew what Sam wanted just by the way his cock was dribbling pearly drops of pre-come.

“You,” Sam’s reply was almost instant, voice lower than normal which immediately gained his brother’s attention as Sam reached to catch the hand that Dean lifted to grasp it tightly. “I want to feel you touch me. I want to feel you kiss me. I want… no. I _need_ to feel you, Dean. I… I just need you,” he added softly, hearing a soft inhale and knew he was on the fringe of his brother’s infamous no chick flick moments rule but Sam decided to risk it since he also knew there was some leeway with that rule when it was just them like this. “I didn’t think we’d ever have this chance again. I didn’t think I’d ever get to feel you like this or… shut me up before I totally ruin whatever mood we still might have,” Sam muttered, hating that all of a sudden it just felt like every emotion or fear he’d buried for nine months wanted to come out.

Normally Dean would have said something light or teasing to break what he could see was going to be a huge emotional moment for them. This time as he watched his brother’s face to see the struggle Sam was having in keeping everything inside that he hadn’t expressed earlier in the shower room, the deeper fears that Sam had always seemed to try to hide given he knew Dean wasn’t always comfortable either with accepting or expressing his own feelings and the way Sam was chewing his bottom lip, Dean chose not to say or do anything to lighten the mood.

Instead he brought Sam’s hand up to press a soft kiss to the back of it before leaning up to begin placing a series of slow, soft kisses along the hard line of Sam’s jaw. “You’ve got me, baby boy,” he replied, letting his voice drop just a notch lower to the one that only Sam got to hear and usually only when they were alone and emotions were high. “I told you earlier that I plan to make love to your body before making love with you. You will feel me, Sammy,” Dean lifted his eyes to see that Sam’s eyes were showing more golds and blues as his hazel eyes began to reflect more of the desire building between them. “You will never stop feeling me in some way for the rest of our lives if I have any say in it,” he added before this time allowing their next kiss to deepen with more heat but still held tight control despite what Dean knew his body wanted.

The nightmares and fears from earlier that night were now forgotten for Sam. In the back of his mind where all of his fears and guilt lived he knew it would still take him time to shake these recent ones but as he worked to stay still, to meet Dean’s last kiss that immediately caused Sam’s blood to heat the second he felt the angle change so the kiss deepened more Sam knew it would get easier for him.

Of course because it had been so long since they’d been together like this, since it had been so long since he’d felt any type of touch from Dean it was harder for Sam not to come like a teenager and he had serious doubts if he’d last too long.

“Dean…” Sam gasped, body arching up on its own at the feel of rough, wet denim brushing over his very active cock as Dean pushed himself up with an ease and grace that Sam still envied so he could straddle Sam’s legs. “I… fuck… I forgot what it felt like when you did this,” he moaned as Dean’s mouth began to slowly kiss down from his jaw to the spot under his ear that had always been a sensitive spot for the younger Winchester before beginning to kiss a path down Sam’s neck. “Dean… I… I’m not going to last if you keep doing that!” he warned, gasping at the feel of hot lips closing on a hardening nipple and knew he was losing any battle of control. “Dean!”

Lifting his eyes while skillfully rolling that hard little nub with his tongue, Dean’s eyes had gone to a darker green as they locked on Sam’s to see just a thin ring of gold now. “I know. That’s my plan, little brother,” he replied with the slow smile that was both cocky and sexy. “I have almost ten months of hot sex to make up for, Sammy. We have all night and…maybe all day tomorrow since unless this place is on fire I’m not opening that damn door except to make a food run to the kitchen since you seriously need to eat.”

Food was the last thing on Sam’s mind as Dean kept his promise to make love to every part of Sam’s body before making love to him. Sam lost track of the times his brother took him over that edge with just simple but loving touches or soft words spoken in the deep voice that Dean only used when they were alone and sharing emotions came easier.

Watching Sam each time he came, listening to the words being said, half of which Dean doubted Sam knew he was saying or the sounds he would make, had always been something he enjoyed doing. When Sam was sexed out or totally in the moment Dean could see so much of the innocence that Sam had once had before so much crap had intruded into their lives.

Right then as he watched as Sam worked to get his brain back online, Dean worked to keep his own need under what control he had left. He smoothed fingers that just slightly shook back through sweat-soaked hair to brush it out of Sam’s face and his smile was softer. When Sam was like this he also looked younger, like he’d been before Dean’s time in Hell much less Sam’s own time in the cage.

“In case you don’t hear me later on since I figure you’ve probably got one more time before you crash and crash hard… I love you, Sammy,” Dean murmured while leaning closer to meet Sam’s mouth in a kiss that heated slowly until feeling Sam’s tongue dart out almost shyly and taking that as permission to deepen not only the kiss but also to explore as their tongues teased and touched as the kiss heated until both brothers were wanting again.

“I’m… I’m not crashing or sleeping until I feel you put that dick in my ass,” Sam knew he was close to crashing since multiple orgasms, on top of feeling safe for the first time in months, as well as knowing Dean was with him, and barely sleeping had the younger Winchester on the verge of drifting but at the first kiss again as he worked his mind and body back to consciousness he also knew what he wanted. “Want to feel you, De’n,” he said in between playful kisses that were once again melting his ability to think clearly. “Now.”

Dean considered making a teasing comment about how his brother had been feeling him all evening but a look into Sam’s eyes told him that he’d pushed them both to their limits and that it was time to give his brother what he’d been promising him all evening.

“Bossy,” he said before giving a quick kiss to the tip of Sam’s nose just to get that one certain scrunched up look Sam had that was a cross between amusement and bitch face. “Tell me how you want to do this, Sam.”

Dean had unsnapped and zipped his jeans awhile back but now eased off the bed to skim them and his boxer briefs down his legs while not missing the way Sam’s eyes watched him or when his brother’s gaze spotted a few new scars on Dean’s body that hadn’t been there the last time they’d been together.

“No. Don’t ask, not right now.” Dean was quick to cut off the questions by kissing Sam deeply while also keeping his brother still by placing his hand in the center of Sam’s chest as he knelt back on the bed. “I’ll tell you how I got them some other time while you tell me about how you got some of these since I was gone.” He felt Sam relax back with a soft sound that meant Sam agreed to wait. “Now tell me what you want, baby boy.”

Sam was just on the side of sexed out frustration that he almost said what was on the tip of his tongue when it suddenly clicked that Dean wasn’t really playing with him so much as asking an actual question; a question that never failed to make his heart skip a beat.

From the first night they’d crossed the lines from brothers to lovers it had never been a question that Dean controlled things or so it might look like. It had taken Sam years to realize that while his brother did top, did control the speed of what they did or the degree of kink they played with that Dean always left it in Sam’s hands how they made love.

Normally Sam would roll to his knees since he enjoyed feeling Dean behind him as he entered him and the way he would kiss his neck or any other part of Sam that he could reach. That night, however, Sam knew he didn’t have the strength or energy to support himself for very long and so decided on another way.

“I want to watch you this time,” Sam replied as he reached to catch his ankles while pulling them up closer and seeing the way Dean’s eyes heated as it clicked what he wanted to do. “I want to see your face when you come inside me. I want to see you Dean.”

“Sammy, I will be the last thing you see when you crash after this and I will be the first thing you see whenever those great big eyes open again,” Dean replied in a voice deep with emotion, leaning closer to kiss Sam again while reaching for the bottle of lube that he’d pulled from the nightstand earlier. “This probably won’t take as long as what I’d like, y’know,” he warned since Dean knew while he’d gotten Sam off several times he’d fought his own body until right then he knew he’d be lucky if he didn’t come the second he started to put his cock into Sam’s well stretched hole.

“You can make it up to me with sex in the Impala the first time we’re on the road again,” Sam replied with a low moan of need at the feel of Dean’s thick, red and well past ready cock easing into him. “Dude! Not a girl!” he knew he was past the point of patience and also sounding more than a little whiny but the need to feel Dean’s cock splitting him open was now huge in Sam’s mind.

Dean’s lips curved into a slow smirk as he adjusted his grip on Sam’s hips after he’d moved his brother up enough so that he could give them both what they wanted while also allowing Sam to see his face. “No, you’re not a girl though we could have a case with the length of this hair again,” he chuckled at the gesture that earned him since Dean knew Sam was only this bossy when he was exhausted and needing what only Dean could give him. “Now I’ll tell you what you are.”

Pausing to allow Sam’s tight inner muscles to adjust to the entry of his cock, Dean reached up to catch Sam’s face in one hand while allowing his other to meet and mesh with his brother’s fingers as he held it against his own chest and watched the way Sam’s already glassy with exhaustion eyes deepened more so the gold was mixed with green.

“You, other than being my little brother, my partner, my best friend despite all the crap I give you, are mine,” Dean heard his voice drop just a little lower, knew his emotions were now wide open and for once didn’t give a damn as he watched the way Sam’s eyes locked on him but also the way his brother’s body seemed to lose whatever leftover tension he’d had from his nightmares or doubts of earlier. “Mine, Sammy. You are mine until we both go out in that blaze of glory and I will rip the lungs out of anyone who hurts you,” he added a second before he caught Sam’s mouth in a heated kiss that served to distract the younger man as he gave three solid thrusts of his hips that brought them flush.

The words, the depth of raw emotion he could see and hear from Dean as he said them nearly had the thin walls that remained breaking in Sam when he was suddenly lost in both heat and desire as he met Dean’s kiss fully.

Sam had known Dean had been stretching him earlier while distracting him but also knew he’d still be tight and this way would make it even tighter so he expected the mild pain as his body stretched to allow Dean’s cock to slowly enter him, but the moment he felt Dean go flush, felt that electric little fissure of pleasure hit at the exact same time as the head of Dean’s cock hit his prostate, at the same time as Dean couldn’t fight his body any longer and let himself climax with a moan of Sam’s name the younger Winchester was lost and let himself fall over that edge one final time.

Struggling to keep his eyes open so he could watch Dean as he worked thru his own climax while also using his free hand to stroke Sam’s slowly softening cock in order to give him as much from this final orgasm as he could, Sam took this time to focus on his brother since it was during these times or when he thought Sam was sleeping and Dean let his guard down that Sam could see his brother relax, to lose some of the hard lines on his face and actually remind Sam of the night Dean came for him at Stanford.

Feeling his brain fogging up as too much sex, too little food or sleep, and being relaxed finally began to pull Sam under, he knew he had one chance to say the one thing that he’d been longing to say since the night Dean was freed of Michael’s control.

“I love you.”

Dean heard the words that he knew Sam only felt safe saying because the emotional walls between them were down like they usually were when it was just the two of them. He heard the shake in his little brother’s voice and knew he still had a lot of work to do to heal all of the fears and doubts that Sam had gained in the past nine months but it was the shaky finger that he felt signing sigils, words, against his chest, over his heart that had him fighting not to show the tears that almost fell or the lump in his throat that Dean had to swallow before opening his eyes to see Sam fighting heavy lids in order to watch him.

Giving a final thrust, Dean leaned forward while supporting his weight on his one arm as he still had Sam’s hand held in the other one. “I love you too, Sammy,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the center of Sam’s forehead and hearing the little sigh of pleasure before Sam’s eyes drifted closed after mumbling something that Dean only heard because he was so close and also because he knew what Sam would want. “Yeah, little brother, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Waiting until he as sure Sam had fallen to sleep fully, Dean eased out but didn’t miss the mumble of complaint from Sam as even in sleep he felt the disconnect the moment his brother moved. “Shhh, I’m here, Sammy. I’m here with you now and I will always fight for you, little brother,” he replied quietly in response to the words he’d felt Sam sign against his chest thanking him for fighting back and returning to him. “I’m home.”

Wiping them both free of sweat and come, Dean thought of making a kitchen run but then chose not to as his own body suddenly reminded him of how little sleep he’d been getting. Pulling on a pair of sleep shorts, he managed to get an old pair of sweats onto his suddenly very sleepy and clingy brother before stretching out beside Sam and rolling his eyes the moment he did. Sam automatically curled into his arms with his head on the spot over Dean’s heart like his brother had done since he’d been a kid and seeking comfort in his sleep.

Running the tips of his fingers along Sam’s arm until he felt the remaining tension leave his brother’s body, Dean closed his own eyes while deciding who he’d have to talk to in order to get everyone the hell out of the bunker for a weekend so he could have it and Sam all to himself.

“Nah, road trip in the Impala sounds better,” Dean decided he’d see about that as soon as Sam was awake and eating normally again since he knew they both still had some healing to do from this latest mess. He could only hope they’d have the time, or a certain witch didn’t turn too many of their allies into small furry creatures.

**The End**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it. I am working on more Wincest and J2 things so just be patient. :)


End file.
